The Story of the Man in the Moon
by Teenage Mouse
Summary: England and Colonial!America lay out under the stars, and England tells his little brother a bed time story.


~ The Story of the Man in the Moon~

It was nighttime over the New World. A comfortable summer night that beckoned one outside with promises of cool air, deep blue skies, and a thousand sparkling stars. And the moon was full and perfect, glowing milky white and looking much more magical than it really was. England felt drawn to it, and had let America stay up late so that they could go out and enjoy the quiet, late world together. It felt only natural to be outside on a night like this.

Neither one had decided where they were going; they had just ended up there, on a little grassy hill, as if they had chosen it together, unspoken. The moon was so bright tonight that it cast a soft, pure glow over the fields and woods before them, making everything look smooth. It was really amazing how bright the world still appeared around them. America wasn't even remotely afraid of the dark tonight.

But still, he nestled into England's side, one of the older nation's arms holding him close, as they lay down on the grass on the slope of the hill and looked up into the faraway world of winking lights above them.

"Once upon a time there was a man and a woman, and they were madly in love."

America didn't mind. He liked it when the people were in love – it made everything much more exciting.

"Did they live in my country or yours?"

"Well, it was a bit of both, actually. You see…well, I'll have to tell some more of the story to explain it."

America nodded once, giving England permission to continue.

"So, this man and woman were madly in love, but – "

"What were their names?"

England looked up at the night sky and tried not to look like he was thinking about it – very aware of America's watchful and trusting gaze on him at all times. "Sorry! For a moment there I almost went blank. There are so many stories in my country, after all. Anyway, the man was definitely called Tristan, and the woman was named Isolde." He hadn't told America the story of the real Tristan and Isolde yet, because it was too sad, so these names were safe.

America snuggled in closer to the older nation, getting ready for the action now that all the details had been sorted.

"Tristan and Isolde had loved each other long and truly, but they were both from poor families, and didn't have enough money to get married and live comfortably on their own. So Tristan worked hard to earn a future they could share together.

"Then one day, Isolde's family decided to journey to the New World to seek their fortune." America wriggled excitedly at this, and England smiled to himself. "There wasn't enough room on the next ship for both families, so Tristan's father and Isolde's father, who were friends, decided that Isolde's family should go first. They had more children to provide for, you see, and they had heard that life was wonderful in the New World, so they would be able to get all they needed there, and more."

"Did they like it here?"

"Just hold on, they haven't got here yet. Patience is a virtue." America rolled his eyes. How many times had he heard _that_ one before.

"So. Isolde's family was to go first. As soon as they arrived and were settled, they were to send word back to Tristan's family to come and join them. For the stories of the wonders of the New World were too good to be true, and they wanted to see for their own eyes what life was like here before they encouraged their friends to follow them."

"But it's all true! How could they not believe it? Did they think everyone was lying about my land?" demanded America, getting agitated. England rubbed his arm and shushed him.

"I know, I know, poppet. They _wanted_ to believe it, of _course_ they did," England said gently, attempting to rectify his mistake. "But it just seemed like a miracle to them – and sometimes it's hard to believe in a miracle, even when it is standing right in front of you." America settled back down, but still looked slightly put-out, taking it all as a personal offense.

"Anyway, Isolde's family put their faith in the New World, and prepared to leave.

"Tristan and Isolde had never been apart before, and they did not know how long it would be before they saw one another again. Isolde was excited to start a new life in America, but she was still loath to leave her beloved behind.

"But Tristan told her 'I will love you no matter how far and long we are parted. The day you come back to me will be just as the day you left. Nothing will have changed between us, and it never, ever will.'"

America let out a little sigh at these words, for even for one so young, he understood just what Tristan thought, and how strong those feelings were.

"Isolde felt the same way, of course," England continued. "She could be away for a year and a day and never love Tristan any less. She did not need to see him or hear his voice to reassure her that she loved him.

"And thus, Isolde's family set off for America, full of faith and hope and dreams."

"So what happened? Did they land and then call for Tristan to come join them?"

"Well, you see, there was a terrible storm and – "

America lowered his head and hid his face firmly into England's side, clutching tightly to the other's clothes…and England realised his mistake _just_ in time.

Oh, in the name of all that was good and holy: _what was he doing?_ Telling a story about shipwrecks to this boy who lived an ocean away from him!

And besides _that_ drastic slip-up, another guilty thought suddenly occurred to him: why had he started telling America a story which he intended to end like this? Not that he had planned to kill off Isolde completely – he just wanted the ending to be slightly sad in a beautiful, romantic sort of way. The kind of ending _he_ liked so much.

Well, that was just awful parenting!

Of course, he was making it up as he went along, but he couldn't very well change the course of the story now – to have Tristan join them and the lovers marry and live happily ever after would be a bit dull.

And besides, that big, round moon had inspired the story and it was firmly in his head now. It wouldn't end in complete tragedy, but it wasn't the happy reunion he was sure the child expected. And probably needed. Surely, suggesting that not everyone gets a happy ending was against the rules when dealing with children. Did it break them?

"…And…nobody died but…Isolde did get thrown overboard. But she only got thrown overboard because she was saving somebody else, and she just got caught off guard! And they know she didn't die because…some mermaids saved her! The people on board saw them carry her away to safety through the roaring waves – they just didn't know where they took her."

"Oh!" gasped America, who appeared to have been holding his breath. He was gripping the taller blonde's shirt in both hands and his eyes were so wide it hurt just to look at them. "You scared me for a second, England!"

"I know. I'm sorry. But I knew you would be able to handle it; that's why I'm telling you the story.

"But you know, America, the rest of the story is rather unbelievable, and the other nations don't have the faith to believe in it, or wits enough to understand it. That's why I have never told it to anyone before. If you ask them, they'll have no idea what story you're talking about. Do you still want to hear the end, even if it's – "

"Of course!" exclaimed the little boy, the sparkle in his eyes looking like stars fallen to earth. "I have plenty of faith and wits to give every story!"

"But it's a bit sad, too."

"Oh…" America appeared taken aback. Arthur could have kicked himself for bringing that frown of worry to his little boy's face. But then that slight uplift of his eyebrows firmed down into a look of determination. "I can handle it! Sometimes sad things happen on adventures, but you have to go on them, anyway."

"Well, then." England took a breath. "Isolde's family arrived in America and sent the sad news to Tristan that Isolde had been lost at sea – but that she was still alive so he should have hope.

"Tristan was ready to set out and find her himself, even if it meant he had to scour the entire globe. But he was worried that it would take too long. What if some harm befell Isolde in one land while he was off blindly searching for her on the other side of the world!"

"So what did he do?"

Time to break out Merlin.

"Well, Tristan knew of a wise old magician who lived in the forest near his town."

"Merlin again, right?" America asked, looking slightly annoyed.

"Yes. Why are you making that face at me?"

"All of your stories have Merlin in them!" America complained. "He seems to live in _every_ forest near _every_ town in your country."

"W-well, that's because he's magic. He doesn't actually live in _all_ those places, but those that need him can always find him. So they just _think_ he lives near their town. Really, he just appears when the hero is in trouble. And…And of course Merlin is in all my stories! He's a great and ageless wizard, so he's been involved in most of the great adventures throughout my nation's history."

"I suppose," said America, still not looking entirely convinced. England had to rectify this before his ward began questioning his stories and the illusion was shattered.

"Also, I mean…I just think Merlin was an interesting person, so I specifically tell you stories in which he's included. If you want, I can start telling you stories that have nothing to do with him. It's not like he was involved in every little thing that ever happened at my place."

"No. That's okay. Merlin is pretty cool; I don't have any wizards in my land."

England wanted to breathe a huge sigh of relief, but had to bottle it up, as America was watching him intently. But since he was lying with his head partially on England's chest now, he could probably feel how fast his heart was beating from all these narrow escapes.

"Well, alright then.

"So, Tristan went to visit Merlin, and since Tristan was a natural born hero, Merlin knew he should help him."

"Wait. So Tristan is just a poor, normal boy and a great wizard like Merlin would still help him?"

"Oh, but of course. A hero is weighed by the love in his heart, not the money is his purse or the lands to his name. Or even his size or age. Even someone very small and young could be a hero." (That should distract America from his storytelling indiscretions for a while.)

America squirmed against England and scrunched his nose in glee. That was just what he wanted to hear. It was like England could read his mind sometimes.

"Merlin could tell that Tristan had plenty of love in his heart, and was worthy of some of his greatest magic. So he cast a very special spell on Tristan to help him find Isolde."

"What did he do?"

England pointed right at the moon that was bathing them in that smooth white gleam.

"The moon?"

"Do you see the man in the moon?" America nodded, for England had shown it to him before. "That face belongs to Tristan. Merlin did that, so that he could look down on the whole earth at once and seek out his beloved."

America stared up at the moon in disbelief, looking as if he had just had his world turned upside down. England smiled down at him, feeling rather pleased with himself.

"So why is the man in the moon still there? Didn't Tristan find Isolde quickly?"

"Well, he can only look during the fuller phases of the moon, of course. And he can see rather large areas of the world at once, but he can't see inside houses or through the tree tops and so on. And also, Isolde would probably be moving around a lot – travelling to be with her family in America, or back home to England. And that makes it a bit more difficult to track her."

America was silent for a long while, and England started to worry that he had scarred the boy beyond repair this time.

"I hope they find each other again."

"They will. And they will be even more happy to see each other because they've been apart so long." He paused. "I…I hope you don't mind that it was a bit sad. I mean, as you say, Tristan hasn't managed to find her yet."

"Oh, but he will. Tristan's a hero, and a hero never fails."America had such faith in this conviction that it gave England faith, too.

He wrapped both arms around the courageous little boy and held him close for a moment. He loved it when America cheered him up – even if England was the one causing the problem in the first place and had no right to feel better. The fact that there was someone in his life who could make him happy now was so novel and…just wonderful. He tried to do the same for America with his stories but he just could never seem to get it right.

And here was America having to cheer him up after England had been the one trying to tell _him_ a sad story. He was a really terrible big brother.

"He's a very patient hero," America said, finally breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the pair.

"How so?"

"It must be boring to be up there and have nothing to do but look down."

They both stared at the moon for a while, its light so bright that it dimmed the stars around it.

Suddenly, America was scrambling on to his hands and knees to look down at England.

"But I would do that for you, if we were separated," he declared passionately.

"What do you mean?" asked England, sitting up slightly and resting back on his elbows so their faces were level.

"If you got lost at sea," said America, looking pained at simply having to suggest it, "or if something bad happened in your country and you couldn't come see me for a really long time. Then I would go to the moon so I could look down and find you."

Oh, God, now he felt terrible for lying to the boy.

And he _had_ lied to him.

Because of course England knew it was a story, but he had _tried_ to make America believe it. _Tried_ to fill his head with fabrications, just so that England could feel good about himself for telling a believable bed time story.

What sort of big brother was he? It wasn't about him and his story-telling! He had to help America grow in the right direction, teach him about the world; yet here he was raising the boy on lies because they were more romantic and interesting! America would never be able to make it as a nation if he thought all these ridiculous things were real.

But it wouldn't be his fault for being stupid. When the little boy grew up to be a bumbling idiot, the other nations could take their disgust out on England, because it would be _his_ fault.

He was an awful big brother. He didn't know what he was doing. Even though he wanted so hard to do this right…

But now he had gone and _told_ the boy you could go to the moon and be able to find loved ones who were missing. Given him such utterly false hopes and misguided dreams.

Now he would wonder why people didn't do it all the time – he'd think they were heartless when they gave up instead of just using the moon as a personal magnifying glass…

There was really no backing out of this one.

"A-America…That's very sweet. But how would you get there? I told you, Merlin is no longer with us."

"I'd fly there."

"Fly? That's…impossible." Telling the wide-eyed and ambitious boy his limits: something he could check off the 'to do' list of the world's worst brother.

"It would be a lot of work, but if I want to find you then I don't mind. I know you say I'm impatient, but if that's what I had to do to find you again, then I know I could do it." He honestly believed it, too, that much was clear from his firm voice and his unusually serious frown. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to sleep until I found you again – I'd be so worried about you – so I could work all night. And you'd do the same for me, right?"

"Of course, America," he said without hesitation. Whatever he had to agree to, if it was for America, he would be there. Even it were impossible. "If you can put so much effort into flying to the moon just for me, then I can work hard to summon up all the magic I have to take me there." He didn't know whether he could really do that or not. But he knew that America would keep _his _word, and if it was for his golden little brother, England could keep his side of the bargain.

America nodded, with a confident smile. "If we ever get separated, we'll meet on the moon, okay?"

He held out his hand, his glowing smile an invitation to believe in the promise. England had to reach out and shake on it, even though he knew it would never work.

A man who kept lying and making mistakes, and the little boy who trusted him implicitly.

England supposed that the silly promise fit their relationship just fine: utterly impossible.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**(The real) Tristan and Isolde:**A beautiful, tragic love story. MUCH better than Romeo and Juliet.

**Raising kids:** I have a brother who is 11 years younger than me, and he is my favourite person in the world. I try and do right by him, but sometimes I make mistakes. Sometimes I act selfishly and think of myself first.  
>Raising a child is important, but nobody can be perfect at it. You can still make mistakes, just like you do with everything else. I'm not talking MAJOR mistakes - like accidentally putting your kid in the washing machine with the laundry. But because raising a child is SUCH a big deal, every tiny error gets magnified and you worry it will affect the kid's whole life.<br>I can imagine England living happily with America from day to day, and then just having these moments where he realises "Oh, God, what am I doing?" and panicking that he's ruining America. Of course, he isn't. And perhaps it was England's fairy tales and bed time stories that gave America his drive to be a hero.

**Meet on the Moon:** I know that England was not involved in the space race - but I believe that his magic could get him there for a short time.  
>Following this story, I think America would want to go to the moon in the 21st century to try and mend relations with England. They made tentative-friends again after WWII and now America wants to prove to England how much he still really cares about him. So he decides to go to the moon, to show England he remembers that old promise and it still means something to him.<br>He doesn't want Russia to get to the moon first, because then his and England's meeting place will be spoiled - it won't be special anymore because someone else got there first.

(This was written for the "Nighttime" prompt of the Special Relationship Summer Camp event over on LJ.)


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